Three Days
by silverwolf1213
Summary: He spent three days in the hospital, dying a slow and painful death. It wasn't merciful, and it wasn't kind. All anyone could do was watch him wither away until someone pulled the plug. *Based on true events, a tribute to my deceased grandfather*
1. Prologue

**I'm going to tell you guys now, this has nothing to do with the Naruto plot. I kinda just wrote a Narutofied version of it because it seemed easier that way. I wanted to share this with you guys. I had wanted to write this last summer, when the event had taken place. But I couldn't bring myself to write about it, I guess the pain was too great for me to actually write about it without crying. It's honestly taking all of my willpower to not cry as I write it now.**

**This is based on a true story. This is how I felt when my grandfather died in August of 2011. I dedicate this fanfiction to the only grandfather I ever knew. In addition, I hope that for those of you who have lost loved ones can relate to this story. And I hope you find solace in knowing that someone out there understands what you went through.**

**I do not own the Naruto universe.**

* * *

My eyes were reading his lips. My ears were hearing what he was saying. But that didn't mean my brain was registering the news.

Beside me, my younger sister was silent. I wasn't sure she even really understood what our father was telling us. I mean, Maiko was only eleven, so I really doubted she completely knew what Otou-san was talking about. I didn't even understand, and I was seventeen.

"Oji-san… Oji-san has cancer?" Maiko whispered as she looked to our dad with astonishment clear in her deep brown eyes.

Okay, so maybe she did comprehend. And heck, her voice was intoned with quietness that I hadn't even realized she could achieve. She sounded so unlike her normally exuberant self.

I had been so wrapped up in noticing my little sister's sign of understanding that I nearly choked when I felt my heart fall into the pit of my stomach. My father was nodding at her words, and I felt like I was being crushed.

My dad, my strong and intimidating and immovable father named Hideaki, looked genuinely sad. The calloused hands that had once experienced strenuous labor in their prime seemed so fragile now as they fidgeted upon the kitchen table.

"Your oba-san finally got him to go visit the hospital after years of him refusing to go," he said. "I'm sure you both have noticed how he can barely move out of his chair anymore?"

Yes, yes, yes. Oji-san hated the doctors, we always knew that. And he was always sitting in his chair. But I mean, c'mon, there was a reason us grandchildren always called it the 'Golden Chair'. We could never sit in it when the old man was around.

But this still wasn't telling me how the man who had lived through wars and missions as a jounin shinobi for the Leaf Village and lived to be nearly eighty years of age could have cancer now of all times.

"The smoking finally caught up to him," Otou-san said. "He has lung cancer, and tumors were found in his brain. They're keeping him in the cancer ward in the hospital for the day so they can examine him further."

My throat felt so dry. How could this have happened? Cancer was always a life-threatening disease, which we all knew. But it just seemed so surreal that it could happen to someone I knew. Someone I was related to. Someone I loved. My Oji-san.

I shook my head. "How?" was all I could utter. I felt so stupid the moment that word left my mouth. I knew _how_. I really wanted to know _why_.

Otou-san looked at me in what seemed like pity. I hated that look. He usually gave me that expression when I had done something that didn't live up to his expectations. I guess this constituted as one of those moments. Because for the life of me, I couldn't understand why this was happening.

"Takako…" he said, slowly murmuring my name.

Great, now he sounded worried that I would break down. No, I wouldn't break down. Because he was lying. It wasn't true.

"Hisao-san was a smoker for half of his life," my father continued. "He was a great shinobi in his time, but even he had a weakness. It finally caught up to him."

I felt myself shaking my head again. "But…"

I hadn't seen him move, but there his hand was, clutching my much smaller and daintier fingers in his. The normally stern line that always adorned his deeply sun-tanned face was pressed into a sad frown. He never looked like that unless he was really upset or really disappointed.

"We'll go see him tomorrow," he said softly. "Right after you finish your work shift, we'll see him."

I couldn't stop shaking my head. I didn't like thinking that my own father would lie to me. But stuff like this just doesn't happen to people you know. The people you love are supposed to live forever and be there for you forever and just… never die.

"You've never gotten along with Oji-san," I said.

I don't know why I said it, even though it was true. I saw my father's black pupils widen in surprise at the venom in my voice. Venom I didn't even know I could muster towards him.

"You're always complaining about him, saying you can't stand him," I continued. The blank expression I had had during the entire conversation was now contorted with rage. "But you shouldn't say stuff like this about him! Don't wish this on him!" I stood up from the chair so quickly that it clattered to the wooden floor with a crash. I barely noticed, though I think I saw Maiko wince from the sound a little. Or maybe she was just trying to keep herself from crying like I felt like doing.

I was almost expecting my dad to burst from his seat and meet my challenging words with his own like he usually did. I was even hoping for it. Because at least then, we could argue for a bit before going off to our respective corners of the house to cool off and then make up. That's how it was. That's how it was supposed to be. Arguing over trivial things.

But the solemn expression on his face told me this wasn't trivial. And the fact that he wasn't yelling at me only made the harsh reality hurt even more. He was telling the truth.

"I would never wish this on someone, Takako, especially the grandfather of my children," he said. "I'm sorry."

Breathing suddenly began to really hurt. My head felt dizzy, like the oxygen had been sucked out of my brain in a flash. I wondered if this was what denial felt like.

_No, this can't be denial!_I told myself. Denial only existed when you were running away from something. And I wasn't running away from anything. My dad was just a really good liar, that's all. That had to be.

"Chiyoko is home," I heard him whisper. "Do not act upset in front of your mother. She is taking it harder than you must be."

My head turned slowly towards the front door, and sure enough, my mother walked into the entrance hall. Still in her business attire as she removed her sandals, it was almost difficult to tell that she was depressed.

Almost.

All she had to do was look up at us, and it was enough to tell me that my father wasn't playing some kind of sick joke on us. Maiko wasn't being mature for no reason; she was experiencing something someone her age shouldn't ever even have to think about. Now I truly knew that I had been in denial. This was probably the biggest slap in the face of my entire life.

My mother's eyes were red and puffy. Tear stains left intricate paths down her pale cheeks.

It was all true.


	2. The First Day

**Okay, this is the official first day of the whole ordeal. Not much to say except that you all should keep in mind that this is based on true events. Everything in this chapter really happened, except for the fact that I don't work in a restaurant. I work at a pool, but I don't know if Konohagakure has any pools, so yeah :P**

I cried while writing this, so you can imagine how I felt at the time.

* * *

I don't remember getting up that next morning. Or dressing for work. Or arriving at the busy café to begin my shift. The last memory I could pull from my mind was going to sleep after a miserable evening of looking between my family members, hoping one of them would burst from their seats and start laughing, exclaiming that everything was just some terrible prank. Even now, as I shuffled to the back of the small diner to sign into work, I was waiting for someone in the family to crash in and tell me it was all a joke; then they could embarrass me in front of the customers and my coworkers.

I would take that humiliating joke over feeling this hole in my chest.

My lip quivered at the thought of seeing my grandfather in the hospital, and I mentally slapped myself to keep the tears back. I hadn't cried last night after the news, and I most certainly wasn't going to cry here at work. Oji-san was only in the cancer ward to be watched over. The doctors could treat him. They could try that fancy therapy and treatment you always hear hospitals bragging about to their cancer patients. The medics could use it on Oji-san, and he would get better. It would be alright.

I kept chanting that last line in my head as my mantra. It was what was going to get me through my five-hour shift.

I spent the next five minutes pulling my black hair into a ponytail and adjusting my glasses, ironing out my blue waitress shirt with my hands and fixing my gray pants, anything to prolong having to face the world. Somehow, I couldn't imagine that waitressing a bunch of hungry customers was going to put me in a better mood.

"Takako!" a shrill yell echoed into my ear. I blinked as I turned around to face the assistant manager of the Niji Tori, Ayako. Her blond hair seemed frazzled, and her blue eyes were looking at me incredulously. I wondered how long she had been in the restaurant before opening, because she appeared to be rather exhausted. "The place is filling up! Get to work!"

I nodded dully as I grabbed a pencil and notepad for placing orders. I didn't like being here in a time like this. Working felt like such a waste of time. I could be seeing Oji-san right now.

With a tired sigh, I walked out of the employees' room to enter the dining area. It was only eight o'clock, but the place was almost packed with people waiting for their breakfasts. I really didn't want to be here, serving a bunch of impatient people their food when my grandfather was in the hospital. These people weren't important; Oji-san was.

I contemplated setting the kitchen on fire to evacuate the place. That way, I could leave work early. But I doubted getting arrested for arson would get me to the hospital any faster. So I plastered a fake smile on my face as I went to serve the first customer.

* * *

It went on like that for two hours. Nearly halfway there. Dashing back and forth between the customers and the kitchen was making time tick by a little bit faster, but there was still three more hours of doing nothing but letting everything fly by in a blur. I had even begun believing that whatever treatment the doctors were using would heal my grandpa until he was completely cured. It could work. Miracles blessed those who believed. I wanted to believe that Oji-san would be alright.

With a struggled sigh and a deep breath, I grabbed a towel to wipe off a now vacant table as the family of four departed. Just as the family walked out the door, a man entered. He wore dark blue clothes and a green flak jacket atop his long-sleeved shirt. A bandana was tied around his head, and the swirling design of our village's insignia was engraved into the metal plate just over his forehead. A ninja.

My eyes widened a fraction at this; shinobi rarely came to eat at this little café. Maybe to pick up some coffee or something, but even that was rare. I inwardly groaned when I realized that I was supposed to be the next server to lead the customer to his seat, and I hadn't even finished wiping this table.

Suddenly, one of my coworkers walked past me, giving me a kind and assuring smile. His curly brown hair framed his tanned face as his blue eyes twinkled. "Don't worry, Takako. I got this one," he said.

I exhaled a breath of relief as I smiled back at him with gratitude. "Thank you, Hiroshi. I owe you one."

He shrugged nonchalantly as he made his way over to the waiting shinobi. As I continued to clean the wooden table, I kept a curious eye on the ninja. I assumed he was at least of chuunin ranking, since he had the symbolic green vest of promoted shinobi. The customer seemed a bit somber as Hiroshi politely invited him to eat inside. The chuunin's brown bangs covered the right side of his face, though it swished slightly as he started talking to the waiter.

Hiroshi frowned as his cerulean eyes fell to look at the ground, suddenly very interested in his shoes. I stood up straight as I watched the customer's sad face. Paranoia gnawed at me, and I was almost certain that the ninja was there for me.

Ayako bustled by me, probably immediately sensing that something was wrong at the entrance of the restaurant. I quickly went back to cleaning the table, hoping she didn't see me 'dilly-dallying', as she so liked to accuse us servers of doing.

My curiosity got the better of me, and my brown eyes shifted to the corner of their sockets to stare at the group of three that was now huddled by the restaurant door. Ayako's normally bubbly self was now still as the chuunin and Hiroshi explained something to her. A few moments passed before the ninja finally left. The assistant manager whispered something to her employee, who quickly darted off to the back of the café.

I watched in confusion as Hiroshi scurried away, and when I turned around again, I saw my boss motioning for me to go to her. Her blue eyes were nervous – something very uncharacteristic for her. And I knew then that something wasn't right.

I dropped my towel on the table and strode towards her, bracing for the horrible news I knew she was going to give. I kept my face as straight and calm as I could, more for the benefit of the diners and my coworkers than for myself. I don't think anyone wanted to see a seventeen-year-old girl break into tears in the middle of a restaurant.

My throat swallowed dryly when I finally stood before my employer. She leaned towards me, keeping her shrill voice surprisingly quiet. "Your family requested for you to leave early."

I felt my eyes widen behind my glasses. "What-"

"They're at the hospital," Ayako interrupted. Her hands grasped my shoulders firmly, and I realized that I was trembling. "Your grandfather is in serious condition."

I hadn't wanted to cry. I had wanted to make sure no one would see me so weak. But there it was, the awful news that sent me spiraling into the deepest black hole I had ever experienced.

Tears streamed so suddenly down my face that there was no stopping them. My nose almost instantly became stuffy from crying, and as I opened my mouth to gather oxygen, choking sobs left me gasping and blubbering. My hands flew to cover my face from the watchful eyes that now looked at me, but I had already seen the eaters and workers looking at me with bewilderment and possibly pity.

I hated being the center of attention, especially if it wasn't the kind of thing that you wanted attention for. Sobbing in the middle of a restaurant wasn't something I wanted to be known for, and in the back of my head, I knew I would probably be embarrassed the next time I came into work. But that didn't matter right now, because Oji-san was in the hospital in serious condition. I didn't know all that much about medical terms, but I knew that 'serious condition' had to mean that no amount of cancer treatment could help him now.

Ayako's arms slithered to hug my shoulders, and I found myself leaning into her embrace. My ears heard her murmuring reassurances, but I wasn't really listening to her. I wanted to get out of her arms and out of this place. I wanted to get to the hospital now.

Hiroshi came rushing from the backroom, whispering pardons to the other waiters as he maneuvered through the tables and muttering excuses to those stupid impatient customers who were still waiting for their food. He quickly came up to me and handed over my bag that he had retrieved from the employees' area. His hand comfortingly brushed my arm as he looked at me with caring sapphire eyes. And just like that, he was off to continue working.

I hadn't even had the chance to thank Hiroshi for getting my bag for me before Ayako hurriedly walked me to the door. "Are you going to be alright? Do you want me to walk you there?"

_You have a restaurant to take care of,_ I wanted to say. Instead, I uttered, "No, I'll be fine." I only saw her nod once before I took off down the road.

The salty tears, both new and old, were still stinging my eyes, clouding my vision. I couldn't keep myself from yelling at people who accidentally happened to get in my way, but I didn't have time to stop and apologize. I just kept running.

I don't know quite how long it took me to get to the Konoha Hospital, though I will say that it didn't feel like I got there fast enough. I threw open the clear glass doors and sprinted into the blindingly white entrance hall. There were a few people seated over to the side, waiting to be seen by the doctors. A few others were standing in line at the reception desk. And all eyes were on me, taking in my frazzled appearance. I took a chance glance at myself to see that my waitress's uniform was stained with dust from booking it down the dirt paths. My hair was falling loose from its ponytail, and rivers of liquid still stained my cheeks.

I was just about to scream and ask where my grandfather was when my mom came around the corner. Just like the night before, her eyes were swollen and pink. She seemed surprised to see me; I guess I really had made it here in record timing.

She jerked her head in the direction of the hallway she had come down from. My feet were suddenly very heavy, as if the strain from running across the village was now taking its toll on my legs. Or maybe it was because I was finally here, at the hospital, but I dreaded seeing what my grandpa looked like now.

When I finally stood before my mother, I collapsed into her arms. I sobbed into her shoulder for the first time since I was a small child. I treasured having her embrace me like she used to because it felt like old times again. When I was upset, she would be there to comfort me, and everything would be alright again. But then I felt her begin to cry into my hair, and I realized that this time, there was a very slim chance that anything would be alright once this whole ordeal was over with.

* * *

I let my mom lead me toward the designated waiting area for the ward in which Oji-san was being kept. It was a small little room about the size of my bedroom, with about fifteen chairs set up around the perimeter. My father and sister were there, along with a few of my cousins, aunts, and uncles. They all looked just as upset as I felt.

"You should go see him," my Uncle Takeo said. His voice was so low and hoarse that I had to strain forward just to hear him.

"Let all the grandchildren go in first," his wife, Ai, said.

My second uncle, Arata, merely grunted in agreement. The sad part was that he was usually the relative who always talked. I guess now he had nothing to say. Or rather, maybe there was nothing to say.

As a group, my five cousins, my sister, and I made our way down the hallway. We were like a parade of sorts, traveling in three separate groups. Takeo and Ai's children were the two eldest, Mamoru and Akira. Next were Arata's kids, Kouta, Chika, and Junko. And then there was Maiko and I.

Oji-san's room was small, so before we even went in, we decided a few of us would stand by the entrance so as not to anger any nurses. The room had three walls, and where the door should have been was a sliding glass door with a curtain that could be drawn if necessary. The patient's bed took up a lot of the space, and the machines nearly filled up the remaining area.

The only reason I actually took notice of our surroundings was because I wanted to find a place to hide.

IVs slithered around and in his arms. A tube was shoved down his throat. His once heartwarming eyes were glancing away from us, but even from the doorway, I could tell they could barely stay open. He seemed so much paler than he should have, and in the dim lighting of the room, he looked like a ghostly gray. A gray that should only color the dead.

My grandmother, Oba-san, was seated on the bed beside her husband, gripping his wrinkled and crumpled hand tightly. She sent us a sad stare with a weak yet assuring smile. Unlike us weak and emotionally unstable grandchildren, there were no tears in her eyes. I wanted to ask her why. Didn't she care that the man she had married and spent her whole life with was in the hospital, possibly on his death bed?

And then I remembered how Oji-san could barely move around the house, how his Golden Chair was the only seat that he actually seemed strong in. That was his throne, but if he even bothered to leave it, he looked like a fragile old man. Oba-san must have been watching him for years, withering away until he fell into this.

She either saw this all coming or she was just very good at being a strong woman.

My little sister squeaked beside me, and I understood how she must feel. If I was so stricken upon this sight, Maiko must be terrified and even nauseous. I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as we walked into the room.

"Today, the doctors discovered a hemorrhage in his brain," Oba-san whispered. "Part of his brain has swelled to the point that an operation would instantly kill him. He had an aneurysm in his lungs and in his brain. The left side of his body is paralyzed. He is currently on a ventilator, as he cannot breathe on his own."

I attempted to swallow the lump in my throat as I watched our cousins move to stand by his bedside. One by one, the grandchildren murmured things to their grandfather.

_"I miss you."_

"You need to get better for us."

"We want you to come home."

It all seemed like the same thing, yet tears just kept springing to my eyes every time one of my relatives spoke. Maybe it was because they were so sincere and heartbroken. Maybe it was because whenever they cried, I wanted to cry to. Maybe it was because they were saying everything I wish I could say.

I didn't realize it was my turn to give a few words until Maiko ushered me forward. It felt stupid of me to do so, but I couldn't help but gulp as I approached my grandfather's bedridden form. I clutched his hand in mine. He surprised me with his strong grip, and I wondered if he felt that holding onto someone was the only way to save himself from this. But in the back of my mind, I knew that he knew there was a high chance he wasn't going to make it.

And that thought hurt more than anything.

My mouth opened slowly, and the only thing I could choke out was, "Hi…"

I looked up to see that, through his half-opened eyes, his black orbs were glazed. I wondered if he could really see me.

"Oji-san…" I sputtered. Tears were already cascading down my face. "You… You have to get better…"

From beside me, I could hear the sobs of my relatives as they listened to me. They hadn't been able to say much to him, and Oji-san deserved more than we could ever say to him. But as the last of the cousins to be holding his hand in this moment, I felt as if I needed to say everything we all thought of him. Everything we all wanted from him. And that was for him to live, even if it seemed like a near impossible request.

"You barely got to see us grow up for real…" I whispered, squeezing his hand. "I'm not even eighteen yet… And Maiko just turned eleven…" I felt his rough fingers rub mine reassuringly. "You're going to be there for my birthday, right? When I become an adult?"

He nodded his head, and while it made a small smile spread across my lips, it also made me cry harder.

"We're all growing up, Oji-san, and we want you to be there," I sobbed. "You need to watch us and make sure we don't screw up. Please… You need to come home… We love you too much to let you go…"

His head turned towards me, as far as the machines and wires would let him, and I felt him nearly break my hand with his bone-crushing squeeze. He nodded his head twice before it fell back against the pillow.

"He responded the most when you talked to him, Takako…" Oba-san said.

My knees buckled beneath me, and if it wasn't for the fact that my cancer-stricken grandpa was holding my hand so tightly, I would have collapsed beside the bed. I wiped my tears on the blue material of my waitress shirt and sniffled loudly.

I had said everything I wanted to say. But it didn't feel like enough. I wanted to tell him everything. I don't even know what everything was, but it felt like my heart had only released a fraction of its sadness.

But in all honestly, a part of my mind said, what was the point? My grandmother knew, the adults knew, my cousins knew, and even Oji-san knew…

Heartfelt words seemed almost empty when the plug was waiting to be pulled.


	3. The Second Day

**Time for the second day now. This isn't as emotional as the previous chapter, I think. Not too many tears on Takako's part, at least. But it is pretty intense. **

**This chapter has a bit of foul language, just as a warning.**

* * *

Walking down that hallway felt like walking toward my execution. This threw me for a loop because I wasn't even the one in serious condition. I guess it was just because with every step I took, my legs felt heavier and my heartbeat picked up to a mile a second. My family was with me this time, which did help with the moral support. I don't think we ever went to see Oji-san together as a group yet. Yesterday had been full of too much sorrow to see him more than a couple times.

This time around, my parents, my sister, and I went to see my grandfather before looking into the waiting room to see the rest of the relatives. Somehow, we all silently agreed that surrounding ourselves with people who were equally somber as us depressed us even more when it came to seeing Oji-san.

As we approached the room, my feet began to slow. I frowned at this; I must be especially nervous to see how his condition was after nearly twenty-four hours.

Suddenly, I felt my arm extend backwards, and I furrowed my brows as I turned around sharply. Maiko, with her hand clutching mine like an iron vice, was frozen to her spot. Her brown eyes were already filling with salty tears, and her lip quivered like a shivering leaf. I don't know when our hands had attached themselves to one another. I wondered if she had latched onto me in search of comfort or if it was the other way around.

At this point, as I stared at her, I realized that I hadn't taken a good look at my sister in a few days at least. Her deep mahogany hair was messy and unkempt, which was surprisingly unlike her. Her black shorts and white T-shirt were matted to her small form with sweat. Or were those tears? I couldn't really tell.

In all honesty though, when I chanced a glimpse at myself, she looked better than I did, if even only a smidge. Just like yesterday, I had arrived at the hospital in my working uniform. I was sweaty from running around the restaurant, and tearstains were spread everywhere, whether it be on skin or cloth. My glasses were blurry with dry salt from tears. I didn't even want to look at my frizzy black hair, I'm sure it was a mess.

I tugged on Maiko's hand, but she simply stood there like a statue, staring at the ground with tears soon to be spilling from her eyes. "I can't see him again, Takako," she said, barely above a whisper.

My head tilted toward the ground, my spirit suddenly even more depressed. "You don't have to if you don't want to. You can wait with our cousins if you like."

Her head suddenly shook to the sides vigorously. "But then he'll think I don't care about him!"

I knelt forward a bit so that I was almost eye level with her. She was so tall now, nearly my height. Then again, I wasn't exactly a giant either. "Oji-san would never think that. He would understand." She continued to shake her head, not meeting my gaze, which made my frown only deepen. "Do you want to see him?"

Her bottom lip trembled at an even faster pace. "I do… But it scares me…"

I jerked my hand so suddenly from her grasp that she didn't have time to keep hold, and I quickly wrapped my arms around her. Her own limbs snaked around my back, and I could feel her shaking breath on my neck. I felt drops of liquid sadness tickle my neck, and I instinctively rubbed her back as she silently sobbed into my shoulder.

When was the last time we had shared a sisterly moment like this? We were always fighting anymore. We were both reaching peaks in our ages. Maiko was reaching that preteen phase, and I was on my way to being an adult. And we were opposites, complete and total opposites. Our arguments seemed to stem from that little fact.

Holding her in my arms like this felt so familiar and unusual at the same time, and I could feel the guilt coursing through me as I realized that I had neglected being close to her like I used to.

"I'll hold onto you, Maiko. It'll be alright," I muttered into her hair. I felt her nod against my neck, and with enough effort, we untangled our arms from our embrace. I kept a firm hold on her hand, both for her benefit and mine.

Side by side, we entered Oji-san's room. Our parents were already talking to him, telling him that he would get better soon. Empty words, just like yesterday, but at least it was better than facing the awful truth.

A nurse scurried into the room, shoving my sister and me out of the way. I shot the back of her fluffy blond head a heated glare, though she failed to notice. Sadly, my patience level had decreased considerably in these past few days. I even snapped at a group of customers earlier today, but my coworkers were pretty understanding about it. They even congratulated me on putting the horde of bratty teenagers in their place. Go figure.

The middle-aged nurse flicked her curls over her shoulder as she checked the machines that attached themselves to her patient. She spent another few moments examining his limbs and muscles. A small grin spread across her pale lips as she looked to my parents, who were eyeing her expectantly.

"His body is reacting well so far. He's responding well, and he's staying awake more than yesterday. He's a fighter, that's for sure. If he keeps up like this, we may be able to take him from his 'serious condition' status," the woman said as she kept a kind gaze on my mother.

In my mind, I was quickly taking back any foul thoughts I had previously had of this lady.

The look on my mom's face was priceless in the sweet way. She looked relieved and happy. I haven't been so thrilled since before this whole fiasco began. While I was terribly numb after hearing this news, seeing the look on my Ka-san's face lifted me up that much more.

I glanced at my younger sister, and I wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulders as I smiled at her. "Hear that? She says he's getting better."

Maiko smiled back at me, and the tears she had shed in the hallway were drying on her fair-skinned cheeks. On her own, she was able to unlatch herself from my grip and confidently walk over to him. She held his hand, and just like she used to when she was younger, she launched into a one-sided conversation with Oji-san, fully prepared to talk his ear off. In those old days in the past, our grandfather never showed any sort of annoyance or irritation when Maiko talked to him. He always had that proud and gentle look on his wrinkled face when she talked and talked and talked.

Now, beneath the wires and ventilator and the pale ghostly look on his features, I could tell that he was still happy that she had the courage to talk to him.

* * *

After half an hour of talking to Oji-san, our family left the room to allow the nurse to give him a cleaning. We ended up in the waiting room, and I noticed that even more cousins and another aunt had arrived from their little town outside Konohagakure. Aunt Kanon and her children, Sayuri, Kimiko, Aoi, and Yoshi had come to join all of us. Alone, our entire family took up the whole waiting room.

Kanon was the eldest out of Oji-san's kids, with Uncle Takeo next, then Uncle Arata, and then my mom. Aunt Kanon was over fifty-years-old, so her kids were well into their twenties and thirties. Takeo's children were in their twenties, and Arata's kids were around my age.

Nods of acknowledgement went around the room as we looked around at one another. My family and I had been in better moods when we left Oji-san's room, but now that we were with our relatives again, the depressing atmosphere fell upon us again. Surrounding ourselves with people who were so sad only enhanced our somber moods. Even the good news we heard from the nurse didn't seem important anymore. Was it worth it to get our hopes up? Were her words truly accurate? Could Oji-san really come out of this horrible state?

"Well," Kanon said as she stood up, "Uncle Ayumu is waiting for us in the conference room. He wants to talk to us about what we'll decide to do when the time comes."

No one bothered to correct her into saying "if the time comes."

Kanon left the room, her brothers and sister following her. Otou-san immediately turned to follow his wife, but Aunt Ai surprised me when she didn't go with Uncle Takeo. She just sat slumped in her chair. After gathering her things, Oba-san followed her children into the conference room. Ayumu, Oba-san's brother, ushered everyone into the conference room, and the door closed behind them all, leaving us cousins to wonder what their conversation concerned.

The waiting room suddenly became too confined for us, or that's how it seemed. The building tension in the small amount of space forced us to take a breather in the hallway. We situated ourselves on opposite sides of the wall, staring around at one another. No one wanted to address the elephant in the hall, but no one wanted to be the first to speak either.

"So…" Aoi said, interrupting the stony silence, "haven't seen you all in a while."

A couple chuckles escaped around the group, though probably only out of the want to stop feeling so upset. "You guys should really visit more often," Akira said with that toothy grin of hers.

"Same goes for you too," Kimiko smiled.

All of a sudden, yelling and shouting could be heard from inside the conference room. At last, the true wraths of the siblings were commencing. Sighs and groans slipped from nearly everyone's lips as we stood awkwardly in the hallway. We all knew this was eventually coming. There was so much hostility between the adults in recent years, though mostly directed toward my father. He was considered the outsider who stole the younger daughter away.

"I should be the one to stay here when it happens! That way he's not alone when he goes!" Arata's voice echoed from beyond the threshold.

Chika sighed as she shook her head, the purple streaks in her hair swishing slightly. "That's our dad for ya, always yelling…"

"Mom will still be here! There's no way she's leaving his side!" Takeo argued.

Mamoru and Akira grimaced at their father's tone. He was the quietest out of the siblings, but he was also the grouchiest. No one ever liked it when he raised his voice.

"Mom hasn't been home in days," Kanon interrupted. "She should go home and get some rest. If the time comes and she's not here-"

"Then we wait for everyone to be here," Ka-san intruded. "That's what it should be. We should all be here."

"And what if it's in the middle of the night, huh? Are you going to rush over here when the time comes?" Arata asked.

"Of course we will," my mom calmly replied.

"And besides, it's not fair that you, Arata, should be allowed to decide on anything when no one else is around," Takeo shouted. "Who left you in charge?"

"I'm the only one who can be here at a moment's notice," Arata yelled. "I live the closest, and I can even stay here by myself if I need to."

"And what about your kids?" Kanon asked. "Are you going to pawn them off on Takeo and Ai like you always do? Or maybe drop them off at that ex-wife of yours?"

The sound of a chair thudding against the floor could be heard, and Arata's voice amplified ten fold. I wondered why on earth the hospital didn't make the conference room sound proof. I guess it was far away enough from the patients to not disturb anyone.

"What about you? You and your pack are mooching off Mom while you're staying here! Why don't you use that money of yours to get a hotel room?" Arata screamed.

"Arata!" Oba-san hissed. "They are family. Family does not stay in dirty hotel rooms."

A loud and obnoxious scoff cackled out from the room. "What kind of family is this? If any of you cared, you would have visited Pop before any of this ever happened!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ka-san shot back defensively.

"Oh please!" Arata scoffed again.

Even though they were all beyond sight, I could clearly imagine the scene in my mind: Uncle Arata pointing to each of his siblings, accusing them of something to make himself seem perfect.

"You left the village right after you married at eighteen!" Arata shouted at Kanon. "And you visit once in a damn blue moon!"

"Traveling expenses aren't cheap!" the eldest daughter argued. "What would you know about that? You barely leave your house!"

Arata's tirade continued on, as if his sister hadn't even said anything. "You still live at home, and what do you do to help our parents out? You fucking quit your job and let your wife support you, your kids, and your parents. What kind of man do you call yourself?"

I didn't hear Takeo say anything, which was surprising. He usually never took that kind of crap from anyone, especially his brother.

"Arata, shut your yap," I heard my mom snap. "You're not perfect either. You pawn your kids off on Mom and Pop nearly every weekend you have custody of them. You're no better than us."

"You're the worst, Chiyoko," Arata hissed.

"That's enough, all of you," Ayumu's voice said, speaking for the first time since the argument.

Arata continued on; no one could stop him when he was on a roll. He just always had to get his point across. "You live just on the other side of town, and you never visit. You've cut us all out, and I blame _him_."

I could almost see the deadly glare Otou-san was surely sending his brother-in-law. I expected to hear the crashes and thuds of a brawl in a few seconds.

"You shut your god damn mouth, Arata!"

My head snapped up so quickly I thought I had broken my neck.

"Who was that?" Mamoru asked, glancing around the group. The other cousins looked just as confused and nervous as he seemed.

Obviously, none of them had ever heard my mom yell. "That's our mother…" Maiko leaned against my side, and I knew she and I were thinking the same thing. It was a terrible time when our mother raised her voice.

"Who the fuck are you to talk shit about my husband?" Ka-san asked. "None of you have ever shown him any respect, with all your stupid tricks and rumors trying to make him look like a bad guy. It's you all who are fucking messed up. All you've ever done is criticize him and me for deciding to marry him. You're my siblings, you should be happy for me. Try to sit there and lie to my face; tell me you like Hideaki."

Silence, in both the conference room and the hallway.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Ka-san spat. "But you know what? At least he's here for me, sitting beside me. Where's your husband? Were traveling expenses too much to pay for him? I guess that's how the rich stay richer, right? And what about you? Your wife is too much of a coward to deal with any of this, that's why she's not sitting with you. Or does she even care? And Arata, you're the last one I want to hear any kind of shit from. You have no one here with you, so don't you dare criticize Hideaki for being a faithful husband."

The awkward quietness that followed after my mother's rant traveled all the way into the corridor where we grandchildren stood. I was somewhat waiting for one of the cousins to lash out at me, cursing me out for how much of a fighter my mom was. But they didn't even look angry. In fact, they looked understanding. We all knew just how tense the relationships between our parents were. And yet, it felt good to know that our cousins were so understanding. My family was like the outcasts in our sea of relatives, simply because my father and his in-laws did not get along. I was so happy to know that our cousins felt just as upset about this feud as I did, and I was even happier that they still accepted us.

"Are we done here?" Ayumu asked. "May I continue? Because one of the first things I see on document is that your father wants you to get over your differences and upsets and get along. You all have been fighting for too long, and if he goes, the four of you need to stay together emotionally for your mother. Do you think you can do that? Do you think you can be siblings again?"

None of them answered.

A dry chuckle escaped my lips. My mother always told me stories of her childhood, how growing up with her siblings was like fending for herself. Every single one of them had clashing personalities, so they never truly got along, which now showed in their adulthood.

It was so depressing. I wondered if they could put aside their egos for Oji-san's sake. I wanted him to see us as the family we could have been. His grandchildren didn't follow in the footsteps of their parents. We still loved each other, despite all the feuding our parents seemed to conduct. Now he just needed to see that his children would be alright without him trying to keep them together. He just needed to see that they, as a family, could actually love each other.

My pessimistic nature had truly risen to a new level, because I honestly didn't know if Oji-san would get his wish.

However, Maiko and her sweet and childish innocence proved to be my opposite. She nudged me in the ribs to catch my attention, and I leaned down so that she could whisper into my ear. "I think they can do it if they try."


	4. The Third Day

**And here we are with the third day. Yes, it is the last of the three days. But there's going to be an epilogue after this, just something to wrap everything up.**

* * *

Walking through the village to work felt utterly exhausting. My legs felt like lead, and it took all my willpower to keep my eyes from drooping. I was hoping that once I started running around the restaurant during my shift, I'd be more awake. But just as I entered the building, I saw the near emptiness of the dining area, and I groaned. It was just before the lunch rush, the calm before the storm, on a Monday. I was in for a rather boring first two hours of my shift.

Hiroshi was already serving the only customer in the place – some middle-aged woman who had nothing better to do but come to a small café and order a black coffee. My shoulders slumped forward as I shuffled toward the backroom. I could already tell this was going to be a killer of a day.

As I passed by the other waiter, he stopped in the middle of jotting down the lady's order to glance at me. I knew what he was looking for – an unstable girl prepared to break into sobs in front of everyone again. I was already famous amongst the staff and maybe even a few of the customers for my breakdown only two days before.

I threw Hiroshi a tired smile to show that I was okay, just fatigued. He grinned that boyishly charming smile of his in reassurance and went back to taking the customer's order.

I continued my trek to the employees' room and opened the door to find the manager packing up her bag to prepare for her departure. Her always cheerfully azure eyes met my exhausted dull brown gaze, and her normally exuberant nature instantly fell several notches.

"How are you doing?" Emi asked.

Of course she knew. News traveled fast in this place among the workers. Ayako most likely told her everything that happened on Saturday. I suppose it was only right that she knew, since she was my boss and everything.

My right hand pulled my glasses up toward my hairline while my other hand rubbed my eyes to wake them up. "I'm just tired. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" she asked worriedly. "You can take as much time off as you want, I can easily call someone to fill in."

I sent her a grateful smile in return as I shook my head. This was one of the few reasons why I liked her as my employer. She was so caring and understanding. Even if she gave me the worst hours ever and was a tyrant when she was here, she was still human.

Emi still looked unsatisfied as she eyed me cautiously, but I noticed her sigh in defeat as she shouldered her bag and made to leave. "If you need anything, just give me a call."

"Of course," I replied.

* * *

On Saturday, a chuunin ninja had come into the restaurant to bear the bad news of how my grandfather had fallen into serious condition. Yesterday, Sunday, nothing as frightening had happened. In fact, the nurse had said that Oji-san was getting better. So if the trend played out nicely, then nothing terrible would happen at all today. If anything, maybe someone would come into the restaurant to announce that he had conquered his ailments and was now walking around his room like a spring chicken.

I shook my head vigorously at myself; I really needed to stop thinking about this whole thing. It was the reason why I was so exhausted. I stayed up so late at night just thinking about the what-ifs, and it was killing me. It was killing me that I kept thinking of what might be killing Oji-san.

I mentally slapped myself as I approached a new group of customers. It was a mother and five children, and every single kid was a freaking maniac. With a sigh, I plastered on my best waitress smile and asked if I could take their orders.

Thank goodness I had been doing this job for over a year. My mind was so far away that I wasn't even paying attention to what the mother was ordering. And yet my hand was so experienced with the pencil that it was automatically recording the meals onto the paper. I was so lost in my thoughts about what had been happening in my life that I didn't even realize the family was done ordering until I noticed that my hand was done writing. I sent a sheepish smile to the mom and then scurried away to the kitchen to give the chef the list of wanted meals.

Just as I walked past the counter, the blaring sound of the ringing telephone caught my attention. Quickly backtracking, I nabbed the phone and pushed it to my ear. "Niji Tori, how may I help you?" I asked automatically.

"Takako! Oh, thank god!"

My heart sank as my head registered the voice as my mom's.

"Ka-san? What's going on?" I asked urgently, clutching the phone to my face like it was glued to my cheek.

"You need to come to the hospital now."

I shook my head in response, and then I realized that she couldn't see me. "I can't. I'm at work…" The last thing I wanted to do was refuse my mom when I knew something bad was happening, and it was the lamest thing I could have said. But I didn't really know what else I was supposed to say.

"Takako… He smells…"

My eyebrows contracted together in an attempt to process what Ka-san was saying. "What does that mean?"

"You just need to leave now, Takako," my mother said impatiently. "They want to pull the plug soon."

My eyes widened, and tears trickled down my cheeks. "I'll… um… I'll call Emi…"

I heard a choke in my mom's voice as she uttered, "I'll see you then." A moment later, a click signified that the connection was broken.

My breath escaped me in shaky trembles, and I glanced over to see Hiroshi watching me. Who could blame him? This was the second time he had seen me cry during my shift in three days.

Fighting back the recurrent sniffles, I turned away so that my back faced him. I didn't want the entire restaurant to see me crying again. With a sudden urgency, I picked up the phone again and punched in one of the few numbers that was familiar to me.

She picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Emi!" I nearly shouted into the phone. "You need to come back!"

I could hear the anxiety in her voice rise several levels. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I need to leave," was all I was able to say, but she still understood.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," she replied before hanging up.

Ten minutes was actually thirteen minutes on the dot. And the entire time I was waiting for her, I was pacing behind the counter like a nervous wreck… And I was, actually. I was so impatient and angry and depressed and just downright scared that Hiroshi made me stay behind the cash register area, for fear I would collapse in front of everyone again. I kept seeing him send me nervous glances, but I couldn't respond with an assuring smile this time. I was far too worried to even attempt to reassure myself.

The moment Emi burst through the door, clutching her thermos of coffee and sliding her sunglasses up her face, I sprinted from behind the counter and ran down the aisles of the restaurant. Tears streamed down my face the second I saw her come in, and as I ran down through the tables and chairs, I knew that everyone in the room was watching me make another scene. But at that point, I couldn't care less.

Before I knew it, I was being crushed by Emi's arms into her chest, and I sobbed. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

I could feel the snot running from my nostrils already, and even though my eyes were closed, it wasn't enough to block the rivers of tears. "They're going to turn the machine off!" I cried, probably loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"Go now," she whispered as she pushed me toward the door. I didn't need to be told twice; I took off.

Déjà vu was a sick thing, I realized as I raced down the busy streets. I was in the same situation I was in on Saturday, merely two days before. Hurrying down the roads toward the hospital. On Saturday, I didn't think I could have felt as desperate and panicked and heartbroken as I did then. The pain I was feeling now, this awful searing pain, was squeezing my heart and choking my lungs. I couldn't tell if it was from running like a maniac, but I'm sure most of it was caused by the horrible thoughts I was thinking.

I flung myself through the hospital doors and didn't even hesitate. I detoured down the hallway where I knew everyone was waiting for me. My momentum almost flung me into a few rooms on my way, but I was too focused on reaching the waiting room to allow myself to accidentally crash. I was a frantic teenager on a desperate mission.

The entry to the waiting room where my family was staying finally opened up to me, and I stood there, gasping for oxygen and looking around wildly between my relatives. My eyes widened in confusion, which really only made the tears fall more. The adults were nowhere to be seen, and the grandchildren were slumped in their seats like their favorite sport team had lost. Only much, much worse.

"Where are our parents?" I sniffled, rubbing my red nose on my waitress's shirt. Somewhere in my head, I knew this shirt really needed to be washed soon; it had endured far too much depression these past three days.

Chika nodded her head in a direction that led further down the hall. "In the conference room. They're talking about what they're going to do when the times comes."

I cringed; it sounded a whole lot like the argument they had had yesterday. "Any yelling?"

Kouta shook his head. "None, surprisingly."

"It isn't really the time for arguing anymore," Yoshi groaned into his hand.

My insides fell apart at the depressed tone in his voice, and I clutched my gut as I felt a wave of nausea overtake me. I leaned against the wooden frame of the doorway like it was my best friend. "You don't mean..."

Unfortunately, Sayuri nodded her head in confirmation. "It's his time. He smells…"

There it was with that phrase again: "He smells…" I had no idea what that was supposed to mean. It sounded like a comedic thing to say, but I knew there was nothing funny about this situation at all.

"What does that mean?" I inquired cautiously.

Sayuri and her three siblings fidgeted in their seats. It was so weird to see them look so nervous, since they were in their thirties and much older than the rest of the grandchildren. They were supposed to be the mature ones, yet now they looked so forlorn that I couldn't help but think of Maiko and how sad she was yesterday. I glimpsed over to see that she was so shrunken into her shoulders that she looked like a turtle. A very sad and lonely turtle. I attempted to go over to her, but the sensation to vomit took over my stomach again.

"When our other grandfather was in the hospital…" Kimiko murmured quietly as she played with the fringe of her shirt.

Sayuri placed a reassuring hand on her sister's shoulder as she took over the explanation. "There's a distinct smell for someone who is sick and…"

She stopped on the last word, and it didn't take a whole lot of imagination to fill in the blank. She was going to say 'dying'.

"Well," Aoi continued, "our grandfather died on his own right around dinnertime. That morning, when we went to see him, he smelled like death."

I thought I would flinch at something like that, but surprisingly, I didn't. I guess I was feeling too ill to be affected by phrases like that anymore. Though I did hear Junko squeak, which was uncharacteristic for her. She was always trying to distance herself from everyone, keeping to herself and staying quiet. It almost made me want to comfort her like I had wanted to comfort my sister, but that nausea was really forcing itself on me.

"What does… death… smell like?" Akira asked slowly, afraid to know the answer.

"It smells like he's rotting from the inside," Sayuri said.

It was like the stench had suddenly sprung up out of nowhere or something, because I could imagine the horrible aroma so clearly. Onions, rotten fruits and vegetables, raw meat that has been laid out for days, eggs that have been sitting out in the sun too long, a skunk gone rogue in the village… All of that multiplied by one thousand. It was like my nose was bathing in it, and the queasiness in my stomach conquered me.

With no explanation to my cousins whatsoever, I turned around and stumbled toward the bathroom across the hall. Quickly locking the door, I collapsed by the bowl and vomited. I puked what very little I had in my stomach. That ended really quickly, considering I hadn't eaten in days. I had been too upset to even think about food, and now I was suffering the consequences. I dry-heaved painfully, throwing up what felt like bits of my organs and guts. Tears fell from my eyes, and I wanted to convince myself it was a reflex from the vomiting.

But who was I kidding? What was the point in pretending to be brave? Who was I fooling in my efforts to seem strong? It didn't matter anymore, it really didn't. I leaned my forehead against the porcelain toilet bowl, and I cried. I cried, and I cried, and I cried.

* * *

For the rest of that day, I couldn't pry myself away from my chair. I couldn't bring myself to even look at Oji-san. All the other relatives had gone and seen him multiple times already. But I hadn't even seen him once today. I felt ashamed of myself, but no one bugged or nagged me to go, probably because of my little episode when I first arrived. But that made it so much worse because no one was telling me that I had to see him. No one was telling me that it might be the last day I ever get to spend with him, and we all knew that was true. But no one was telling me to drag myself out of my depression to go say goodbye to Oji-san. That was one of my worst flaws – I needed so much prodding when it came to getting over my emotions. And no one was helping me. It made me feel so much more pathetic and ashamed, which in turn, kept me glued to the seat.

I had gone through six water bottles, two cookies, three crackers, and one toasted waffle during my time in the hospital that day, which was probably the most I had eaten in the past three days. Everyone kept trying to feed me so that I had something in my stomach, just in case I needed to throw up again. It was better than dry-heaving, they kept saying. I didn't even want to eat though, let alone what everyone was shoving in my face. My cousins kept passing around the junk food because there was nothing else to eat unless someone decided to go to the store to actually buy real food. I think we were all too scared to leave today. We might miss a chance to say goodbye before he left us.

Then again, I wasn't really one to talk. I had yet to say anything to him today.

Before I knew it, it was seven-thirty at night, only a half hour left until visiting hours were over. My heart was now hammering in my chest, and my brain was screaming at me to pick myself up and go to his room. I had to say something to him. This was my last chance. I knew everyone was waiting for me to go to his room, and even I was waiting for myself to go.

So why couldn't I get up?

More than anything, I wanted to see him one last time. But when I thought of standing up from my chair, my knees buckled and my palms began to sweat. Bile was rising in my throat again, and I knew if I smelled the real stench of death, I'd hurl.

A hand gently clasping my shoulder startled me so much that I jumped in my seat. I spun around quickly to see my mother looking down at me with red puffy eyes. I hated those eyes now; I had been seeing them on all my relatives' faces, and it just seemed unnatural on everyone.

"We need to leave soon…" she croaked out. Her voice had trailed off, and I knew what she had wanted to say. She wanted me to go see him. It was all the prodding I needed.

"Can you go with me?" I whispered. She didn't say anything in return, but I saw the hint of a smile on her features as she led me out of the waiting room and down the hall.

This was the longest walk of my life. It was like walking but not really going anywhere. It was almost surprising when his room appeared before me.

And then I smelled it. Everything I had thought he would smell like was so much more inferior to this aroma. It burned my throat, and my eyes stung with fresh tears when I realized that this smell was coming from my grandfather. The only word that I could associate this awful stench with was 'decay'.

It took all my effort to swallow the lump in my throat as I approached his bedside. Just as I had in the last two days, I gripped his hand. I was so frightened when he didn't clench my hand back like he had before, and it was only because of the machine beeping by his side that I knew he hadn't left us yet.

I gulped as I looked down at him. I didn't really know what to say. In the past couple days, all I had really said to him was that he needed to get better for us. We would all miss him far too much if he left us. I told him he needed to get better so he could watch his grandchildren grow up. I told him he needed to get better so he could keep a close eye on his children and keep them from fighting. I even told him he needed to stay around so he could get to know Sayuri's kids a little bit better.

But what was I supposed to say now? Asking him to get better wasn't going to do any good now. He knew before we did that he wasn't coming home with us. It was heart-wrenching because that stupid nurse from yesterday had been wrong. She didn't know what she was talking about. She had gotten our hopes up for nothing.

I bit my lip as I tried to make eye contact with him. He couldn't even keep his eyes open anymore, and his skin was the same color as the ghostly white sheets. The only way I knew he was awake was because I could feel his thumb rubbing the back of my hand reassuringly. The ventilator shoved down his throat sounded like it was making him choke, and my reflex was to pull it away from him because I could hear his ragged gasps. I had to remind myself that the ventilator was the reason he was still alive.

"Oji-san," I mumbled. "I wish you could see me grow up a little bit more. I wanted you to be there when I became an adult and got my first job. I wanted you to meet my future husband and be the great-grandfather to my future kids. I wanted you to be around forever. I wanted you to be around because I love you too much."

Salty sadness was cascading down my red cheeks in waterfalls. I almost stopped talking right there, but then I felt his weathered hand lightly squeeze. I nearly jumped with joy that he had heard me.

It took me a few gasps to get out the rest of my thoughts. Feeling his hand in mine really helped me. "I love you, Oji-san. I'll miss you so much. Please… Will you please stay with me? Please watch over me? Please stay with me?"

I felt another squeeze of his hand, and then I saw him struggling for a split second. With great effort, he nodded his head.

"I love you, Oji-san," I whispered. "I'll make you proud."

"Takako," my mother murmured from behind me. I startled a bit at the sound of her voice; I had forgotten she was there. I turned my head slightly in her direction, still holding onto his hand. "What was it he always called you?" Ka-san asked. I could almost hear the knowing smile she must be trying to pull off from behind her tears.

I nodded in reply, and for the last time, I leaned over to my grandfather. "I'll make sure to keep being your 'good girl', Oji-san," I said, giving a small watery smile. I reached over and kissed him on the forehead, the only spot that wasn't covered with spidery wires. "I love you."

* * *

My family had been prepared to leave the hospital, but my mom's siblings and mother stopped her just before we exited. They moved to the side of the hallway to converse quietly, though they really failed at whispering in the open. I guess it was good that they weren't screaming at one another.

"Kanon and I are going to stay here with mom tonight," Arata said to Takeo and Ka-san.

"Just to keep her company ," the eldest daughter added.

Uncle Takeo and my mom nodded in understanding. "And do you think tonight is the night?"

"I think so…" Arata mumbled. "We'll call after it happens."

* * *

I stayed up all night that night. I probably shouldn't have. I wasn't even supposed to know there was possibly going to be a phone call. The adults most likely didn't want to worry us about how Oji-san might leave us in the middle of the night. My mind told me that there probably was going to be a call, but my heart was hoping that there wouldn't be one. That way, I could at least have one more day to see him.

The phone rang at exactly 11:39 P.M.


	5. Epilogue

**Okay, here is the final chapter. The epilogue to tie everything up.**

* * *

Oji-san died on Monday, August 1st, 2011 at around 11:30 at night. His wife had watched him wither away on his death bed for hours before she finally agreed to turn the machine off. I didn't really want to hear the details, but I found out anyway from my mom who heard from her siblings. The doctor had removed the ventilator, and for a few moments, my grandpa had been choking and gasping for air that wouldn't enter his lungs. He died with his wife by his side, holding her hand just before he left. Supposedly, it was the first time Oba-san cried during those three days. She was such a strong woman, and I'm almost happy that I didn't have to see her cry. It would have made everything so much harder.

The funeral was to be held on that following Monday, August 8th. Every day between his death and the funeral passed by like a blurred routine. I went back to work, came home, got back on my eating schedule, talked with friends. It was almost laughably normal except for the depressing atmosphere that seemed to follow me everywhere I went. I received sympathy and condolences from everyone I knew, which both helped and kind of made it worse. It was nice to talk to others about it, but contrarily, it hurt because everyone pretty much said the same thing, which became very cliché very fast.

When the day finally came, I dressed in the only outfit I had that seemed remotely funeral-appropriate. I was wearing black flowing pants that looked like a skirt, a black tank top, and a black cardigan that had a white floral design around the front of my shoulders and collarbone. My dad was initially put off with the white flowers on my top, but then my mother reminded him that in our family, white was a color of death.

The trek to the funeral home wasn't a long one. Probably only ten minutes. When we finally did arrive, the director of the service ushered us into a large room with multiple chairs laid out like an assembly was to take place. To my right, a shrine of traditional candles and incense were arranged on a table, and no more than ten feet behind that was the body of my grandfather.

I wasn't close enough to see him, but the fact that it was an open casket made my heart feel like it was being squeezed by an icy hand. I wasn't sure I wanted to see him now when he was like this.

The director of the viewing handed each member of my family a clip that we were meant to place on our clothing. Each clip was different according to our relation to Oji-san. Maiko and I had a clip with a blue flower made of yarn, and a red circular sticker was stuck to the middle. It meant that we were the daughters of his daughter.

After that, we were pushed onto a red rug with intricate designs of beautiful animals of the zodiac and people dressed in kimonos and royal-looking garb. My sister and I stood side by side on the mat and were each handed a thin stick, an already burning candle lighter. As instructed, we bowed before the shrine three times, holding the little fire in front of us. Simultaneously, Maiko and I placed our sticks side by side in a pot of gray sand. Both stood among a group of others, no doubt from our relatives who had arrived before us.

The man in charge of the service waved toward the black coffin, motioning for us to go over to him. With a deep intake of breath, I pulled my little sister along with me – she seemed in too much of a daze to operate on her own – and we approached the casket.

I had always heard people say that the dead simply look like they're sleeping. I wanted to punch everyone who had ever said that.

Oji-san didn't look like he was sleeping. I knew what he looked like when he was sleeping – he often passed out when he was in his Golden Chair. He would have his mouth wide open, showing off the remaining teeth he had managed to keep in his old age. And he never had his head perfectly straight; it was always tilted at an angle, usually upwards in a diagonal fashion. His arms would be thrown all over the place, never in any particularly neat position.

No, when I looked at him now, there was no trace of a sleeping grandpa. And I hated admitting it to myself, but I knew he was dead. He was far too overdressed for my taste: a fancy black suit and white dress shirt. I know it was custom to dress the deceased in nice clothing, but I had never known a time when Oji-san liked wearing anything so nice. Not even in weddings or celebrations. Give him a pair of slacks and a polo, and he was set to go. His hands were crossed over his chest, which I hated. It reminded me of the old fairytales of princesses who were thrown into an endless sleep.

But his face was the big giveaway. I don't know if it was because of how straight his head had been positioned in the cushioned casket or if it was because his body was slowly decaying away. But the skin on his face was so sunken in that it looked like there was no skull there. I cringed just looking at it, which made me feel ashamed of myself. Because whether I could admit it to myself or not, the man in the coffin was my grandfather. My deceased grandfather.

I glanced to my sibling, wondering if she was thinking the same things I was. When I looked at her, she seemed so serious. Not really sad, just serious. And I realized that maybe her eleven-year-old mind really did see a snoozing old man. I envied her for that; I wish I could simply imagine that he was sleeping.

Glimpsing out of the corner of my eye, I saw that a short line of relatives was forming behind us, waiting to pay their respects to him. I frowned to myself. How long had Maiko and I been standing here? I hadn't even said anything to him yet.

With a small gulp, I thought of what I wanted to say. I wanted to say a lot to him, but there weren't enough words to express any of my thoughts. Nothing seemed good enough, nothing seemed worthy enough, nothing seemed perfect enough.

Then, in the back of my mind, a little voice asked me, _What would he want you to say? What would he want to hear you say?_

And like a typhoon, memories of the times I had spent with Oji-san came flooding back to me. Images I hadn't been able to conjure up in days because I was afraid of feeling worse finally came back to me.

When he stayed home with me while Ka-san was at the hospital, pregnant with my little sister; he stayed with me all those days, coming in at short notice when Otou-san had to take my mother away at the last minute.

When he once said that I would grow up to be Ms. Konohagakure; I laughed at the very idea because I was only ten and didn't even dream of being some big beauty pageant winner, yet he seemed pretty convinced at the time.

When he said that I could become Hokage simply because I was smart; I had never trained as a genin, and politics never interested me anyway, but he seemed to think that was the job for me.

All those times he put out his cigarette, not because he wanted to keep the smoke away from me or because he knew it was bad for him, but because he hated how upset I looked when I saw him smoking.

I smiled. I knew what he would want me to say.

_I'm going to become someone you'll always be proud of, Oji-san. That way, I'll always be your good girl. I'll miss you. I love you._

Holding Maiko's hand, we made our way to our seats. We were to sit with the other female grandchildren. I watched as other visitors came in to the viewing. There were many people of the family, though there were some others I didn't recognize. I think most were simply coworkers of most of the adults. Four people Ka-san worked with even came to pay their respects.

After that, once all the guests had arrived, the speeches began. There was a lot of talking from the elder members of the family, those who knew him the best. I contemplated getting up to say something as well, but I don't think I could have explained how great I thought Oji-san was to everyone in the room. If they were here at his funeral, they must have already known how good he was anyway.

It was a beautiful service.

* * *

Uncles Takeo and Arata and the male grandchildren were the ones to carry the casket to the cemetery. The rest of us followed like a parade, a sea of people dressed in black marching up the green hill to the place where we would lay him to rest. Akira and I hooked arms with Oba-san, helping her stumble up the hill. I hadn't seen her cry during the three days, but now she was sobbing. Part of me was a bit relieved to see that even she had a breaking point. She had been so strong during his time in the hospital that I had been worried that she was bottling everything up too long.

The sky was too blue, there was no trace of clouds, and the sun was shining too brightly. I'm sure no one wanted to stand in dark rain, but the world seemed to be giving off too much of a happy atmosphere for my taste. The skies should have been crying with us, or at least to hide the fact that we were crying. It seemed unfair that the world was allowed to be happy while we were burying a member of our family. I really wanted that old saying to be true, that "Misery loves company."

We all lined up beside the hole in the ground. I think there was supposed to be an order in which we stood, but no one was really giving it much thought. A priest was saying a few more words in respect, a lot of religious stuff that Oji-san didn't even believe in. That part was a little annoying, but it was a proper sendoff anyway.

Once the priest had finished, we all walked in a line until we stood at the head of the casket as it was lowered into the ground. One by one, each of us threw our colored clip into the hole so that it landed on the closed lid of the coffin. Then we threw a handful of clumped dirt into the grave.

When everyone had had their chance to toss their clip and dirt into the hole, we were to turn our backs away from the grave so that the funeral home workers could finish the burial. We were not to look until it was over. It was supposedly bad luck to watch the casket close and to watch the grave fill up.

In the meantime, the adults passed around packets of fake paper money. As per family tradition, we were to toss the money into a fire. It was a symbolic way of sending money to Oji-san, that way he had money in the afterlife.

Afterwards, as we traveled down the hill, a basin of water on a small pedestal was waiting for us. We were to wash our hands and faces with the water. Symbolically, it meant that we were washing ourselves of our depression for losing our loved one but never truly forgetting about him.

I was one of the first few to finish all the small rituals and traditions. Not because I wanted to be over and done with it all so soon, but because most people were actually finding a bit of amusement in watching some of the relatives toss money into the fire. Some people had missed the fire by only a few inches and had braved the embers to throw it completely into the burning bin. No one got hurt, but the whole ordeal was providing some much wanted humor and laughter during such a sad day.

I waited at the bottom of the hill for everyone to catch up. I was lost in my ocean of thoughts, so I didn't mind being alone. But after only a few moments, Uncle Ayumu, Oba-san's brother, approached me. He had helped organize everything for today, mostly for my grandmother's sake, since there was no way she would have been able to handle everything on her own.

He gave me a small smile as he came to stand beside me. He towered over me by at least a foot and a half; he was one of the few family members who was so tall. "You were very brave today, Takako," Ayumu said as his gaze wandered to the top of the hill. I gave him a confused look, which he chuckled at. "I didn't see you cry today. You handled everything quite well."

I shrugged. It wasn't out of disrespect that I didn't cry, it was just that I don't think anything today could have amounted to the horror of those three days in the hospital. "I guess my tear ducts are dried out for a while."

"Perhaps," he replied considerately, though I heard the unmistakable hint of doubt in his voice. "But I did see you looking rather thoughtful throughout the day. Anything particular on your mind?"

I frowned at this. Was I so easy to read that people could tell I was lost in my thoughts at a funeral of all places? "Well… I guess I have been thinking about a few things…"

"What about?" Ayumu inquired.

I bit my lip nervously. "It's just… Oji-san was a jounin when he was younger. He fought in a bunch of battles and wars. And did he ever…"

I saw Uncle Ayumu's smile turn upside down as he eyed me curiously. "Did he ever what?"

"Did he ever get the recognition he deserved?" I asked. "He was a ninja, but when he fought for his home, did the village ever think of him as a hero?"

"I'm not sure I understand, Takako," he replied.

"There's a memorial for those who died in combat," I explained. "And I understand that those shinobi died protecting our village. I'm as grateful as anyone in Konoha for what they have done for us. But do ninja who come home alive get the same respect?"

I felt so selfish for saying this, and I thought Ayumu would scold me for disrespecting the deceased shinobi who died in action. However, he surprised me when he simply smiled at me. "You're wondering if others in the village knew how great Hisao-san was," he said.

I nodded, and I was so glad that he understood what I was thinking. "It's just… He was a great person. And even though people who don't know him say that he was, do they really know how great of a person he was? Because when my friends and the people I work with tell me they're sorry, I hear the sympathy and everything, but their words about Oji-san just seem so…"

"Inferior to what you think he really was," Ayumu finished for me.

My head slowly nodded in agreement. "Is it wrong of me to think like that?"

Ayumu placed a reassuring arm around my shoulders in a gentle hug, and he sent me a kind smile as he looked down at me. "It's natural, Takako. All of us want the world to know how great the people we care about really are. It lets those that we love know that we're extremely proud of them and what they have done. But if there was one thing I'll always remember about your grandfather, it was that he wasn't a vain person. He didn't care about what everyone thought of him. He only cared about those who were close to him and what they thought of him. It's why I let him marry your grandmother."

I looked up to him in surprise. "Really?"

"Oh sure," he laughed. "Your Oba-san was beautiful in her younger years. She had suitors tailing her everywhere. Some were rich, some were powerful in political terms, all of them were handsome. But I didn't like any of them, and I made sure to make it a point to them and your Oba-san. I scared them all away."

I couldn't help but laugh at this. "But you liked Oji-san?"

"Not initially, no," Ayumu said. "When he first approached your grandma, he was wearing his professional jounin garb, and I instantly labeled him as unsuitable for my sister. I figured he was just another man hoping to impress her with his powerful ninja ranking. But when my sister went up to him, he discarded his forehead protector and threw his green vest away. And from there, he professed his admiration for your Oba-san. It was romantic and mushy, but it was humble. And that's when I liked him."

"I never heard that story before…" I uttered, mostly to myself. I had never heard of Oji-san being so modest, yet I knew in my heart that it was extremely likely. Ayumu was right, my grandfather was never a vain man.

"I just want you to know, Takako," Ayumu said as he led me toward where everyone seemed to now be waiting for us. "Hisao-san cared about a lot of people, much more than he cared for himself. And if there was one thing he really wanted to see before he left this life… it would be this."

I had been staring at the ground while he had been talking, but when he said those last words, I looked up. He was motioning to our family. Uncles, aunts, cousins, distant relatives, little children, people who I didn't even know how I was related to, they were all clustered into a massive group. Talking. Hugging. Getting along.

Maybe it wasn't the atmosphere Oji-san would have exactly asked for. Heck, I don't think anyone would have wanted us to be gathered together in a situation like this. But here we all were, together. It wasn't perfect, but then again, nothing in this world was perfect.

But it was a start. What more could any of us ask for?

* * *

**This ending of this chapter was to symbolize that now, after about eight months since my grandfather's death, our family is actually doing much better than we have been. It's not perfect, but I don't think we'll ever be a perfect family, if that even exists. We're closer than we were, and that's what my grandfather would have wanted.**

For those of you who are still concerned for my emotional level about the event, I do cry when I think of those three days. It's still a bit of a fresh wound. But then I think of everything before that, when all the family drama wasn't consuming our lives, and how he was just a kind man, and I feel much better thinking about him.

So once again, thank you all for sticking with this and taking the time to read it. If this short story did anything for you, I hope it provided a glimpse of the important things in life for you. I hope it touched your hearts and made you feel something important or even made you think about what is really special in your life. Cherish the things you take for granted, because they won't be around forever. And when they finally do leave you, don't drown forever in sorrow. Look around you and think about what you still have. Keep it safe and make it better.

Thank you all for reading this, you're all so wonderful!


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